Where It Hurts The Most
by KoolJack1
Summary: Christian subs for Ana to prove he trusts her, and things get out of hand. More demons surface, and must be faced. Terrible summary, read the story. WARNING: VIOLENCE/SEX/ANGST. A random scene, fitting in anywhere after the Fifty Shades Freed.
1. Chapter 1

"Ana, _please,"_ He's exasperated, desperate. His voice is one of someone who knows they've done wrong, and knows they can't take back their actions.

I shake my head, turning to face him, hot tears rolling down my cheeks, "Christian Grey, how you acted today was out of line. Embarrassing me in front of my friends, my _family._ You treat me like a child, and you lose control of your anger because one of my _best friends_ hugs me for a little too long? What's next? Can I not see Kate? We've slept in the same bed a few times." I'm not angry, I'm livid.

He stares at me, devastated, "Please stop yelling at me, I just get jealous." He says it as if that solves all of our problems.

"That isn't it, Christian," I yell, "Again, you miss my point. It isn't that you get jealous, it's that you overreact constantly, in front of people! You embarrass me by constantly controlling me and arguing with me and glaring at the people who enjoy spending time with me."

He shrugs, looking down, "Not all people, just men."

I stare at him, momentarily shocked, before turning and walking out the bedroom door. "Friends are friendly with each other, Christian. Not that I'd expect you to know that." I'm not really sure where I'm heading, but I hear his feet shuffle along behind me as he follows me. I'm not sure why, but I stop outside the Red Room of Pain. He's so close behind me, he walks into me when I stop; he wasn't expecting me to stop here of all places. I contemplate for a minute, swatting his hand away from my shoulder, and open the door before I have a chance to think.

I walk in slowly, looking around. He stands in the doorway, uncertainly. His eyes nervously flicker around the room, and I can tell being in here makes him uncomfortable now. Ever since that time that I left him after, Christian doesn't seem to enjoy it as much anymore. Vanilla is becoming more and more his favorite flavor. I drag my fingers along the surfaces in the room, slowly taking it all in.

"You know, I trust you with everything. I let you tie me up, blindfold me, take me wherever you want, anything. Yet I'm not even allowed to enjoy my friends company. How can I trust you? How can I trust that you can be my lover, my husband, and my best friend; if you are so uncertain in my relationship that I can't hug another male?" He looks wounded, and he shrugs helplessly, floundering for something to say. I have him at a loss for words, another first. "How can I trust you won't overreact forever, and scare our children when we have a family? You scare everyone else." I'm being mean now; cruel. I've awoken this part of my personality because of him, never in my life did I ever have this in me before him.

I know my words cut him deep, and his head hangs in shame, "I don't want to scare anyone, I want them to like me." His words are honest, young. My heart warms a bit.

I sigh, marching towards him. I hastily grab his chin, and he flinches back. I ignore it and jolt his head up to look at me, the flinch only solidifying that he doesn't really trust me. "It's your turn to trust me."

He looks at me, eyes wary. He looks young again; broken. I don't want to break him, only make him see. "I do trust you, I let you touch me, I sleep next to you, I married you…" His voice trails off, his eyes flickering to the handcuffs and the restraints around the room. I grip his chin tighter, and his eye brows knot together, I can tell he wants to pull his face back.

"Did you enjoy it?" I ask, feeling brave, "Being tied down, being submissive."

He swallows roughly, his expression fearful, "Are you asking me to be submissive for you?" I take note he evades my question.

My eyes soften, my heart unclenching, "Not unless it's something you don't want to do." Where is this coming from? My bravery, my will to do this?

His eyes go down, staring at the floor. "If it will prove I trust you, and make you more at ease about trusting me, than I want to."

I have never imagined I'd see him so…uneasy. I release his face, shocked by his cooperation. He sits down on the bed, and looks up at me, waiting. "I don't even know where to begin," I realize, "What don't you want?"

He thinks for a minute, "I'll do whatever you want."

I look around, slightly overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. Strangely, the thought of doing this excites me. I never imagined it would. "Undress," I say simply, reaching for a blindfold. I turn around, and he's already down to his boxers, and dragging those down his thighs. I collect handcuffs, two pairs, my eyes flickering towards the riding crop. I look away quickly, I don't think I could ever use one of those on someone. We make eye contact again, his eyes dark. "Lay down in the middle," I instruct, my voice giving away my fear. He does, his lips parted slightly as I climb up next to him, taking his left hand, kissing it quickly before locking the handcuff around his wrist. I pass the chain being one of the metal bars of the head rest, and repeat the same process with his right hand.

"Is this okay so far?" I ask, stroking his cheek.

He smiles weakly, his smile not reaching his eyes, "Yes."

Not completely convinced, I do the same to his ankles, then reach for the blindfold. "What's the safe word?" I prompt gently as I cover his eyes, his breath is already accelerating.

"Pain," he gasps quietly, and the word tugs at my heart.

"Okay, just try to be still. I'm not going to hurt you," I reassure him pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. He exhales loudly, but doesn't comment. Unsure of where to start, I settle for his face, nipping his ear and his chin. My hands run down his strained shoulders to his neck. I let my fingers slightly push on his Adam's Apple, examining it, and suddenly his head twists away.

"Don't choke me," he says seriously, and I plant my hands back on his shoulders.

"I won't, baby. I wasn't going to," I whisper, continuing my decent down his neck towards his chest. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, and I hope it isn't all from fear. I marvel at the idea of having him laid out, helplessly before me, all mine to do whatever i want with. It's empowering. I brush against his nipples and his body jerks, the handcuffs clanging against the bar. I realize I've never done anything with his nipples before, always too afraid it would spook him away. Very slowly I plant a kiss on his neck, his collarbone, and finally his chest. I take the soft pink nub in my mouth and he moans. I brush against it with my teeth and he moans again, deep in his chest.

"Don't bite me too hard," he whispers, and I smile even though he can't see.

I bite him, very gently, and his back arches a bit. I move over to kiss a scar, licking it. He knows exactly what I'm doing and he whimpers with need. The sound is so delicious, I quickly lean back to undress myself. "Ana?" he questions, his face turning in the direction of where he thinks I am.

"Just undressing, still here." His head falls back, and I realize he really is nervous. His body is tight with fear, but his erection stands tall, straining against his belly. Pleased by his reaction to me, I lean down and let my breasts brush his erection, and I lick his happy, happy trail. He's panting down, arms taunt as he struggles to move. "Easy," I remind him.

I move to gently bite the top of his thighs and they flex, "Oh God, Ana," he groans, "Please make love to me." His words go right to my groin, and I move over slightly to lick his balls. His muscles constrict, and I look up at his face to gauge his reaction. His jaw is slack, his body quivering. So I do it again, nipping at the sack gently. His erection twitches and he moans loudly, "What you do to me," he moans.

"What do I do to you?" I ask, moving my hand to slowly jerk him off. He swallows, shaking his head as he is at a loss for words. I still my hand, "Answer me."

"Don't stop," he pleads, trying to force his hips forward.

"Answer my question."

His head rolls to one side, "You make me feel alive, you make me so hard, and you make me happy."

I move again and he sighs in relief. I add my mouth to help my hand, and he appreciates it. "Ana, more, please." Holy shit, he's begging. I ignore his plea, "Please, baby."

I stop completely, releasing him from my mouth and crawling back up his body, he groans in protest, fighting his restraints. I smile down at him, scrapping my finger nails down his chest slowly, and he shudders at the sensation. "Ana," my name comes out in a breath, his mouth open in the shape of an O. "Ana," he says stronger, clearing his throat. "Do it harder," he begs quietly, "Hurt me." _Holy fuck!_

I feel like I'm going to throw up. "No, absolutely not."

He whines, "Please, I'll safe word if it's too much. I promise."

I'm quiet for a moment, "Why?" I whisper.

His perfect lips fall into a frown, "Please?" is his only reply.

"How?" I ask, and I can't believe I'm even considering it.

"Hit me, slap me, scratch me; anything." I stare down at him, and I remember how he told me about Mrs. Robinson. _Slap. Kiss. Slap._ I don't want to be like her. "Please?" He tries again. I remain silent and he squirms in anticipation. I don't think I'm strong enough to hurt him, physically or mentally. I shut my eyes, regretting that I ever started this. I vow to never do it again.

I reach out quickly and scratch his chest fluently, drawing small lines of blood. He yelps, his arms yanking hard on the cuffs, "Again," he gasps. I flinch as I scratch him again, he moans. It's gut twisting. "You can bite me again, harder," he whispers, his cheeks flushing pink. His sudden change in behavior is scary, this is getting scary. Unable to stop myself, I bend down to kiss his shoulder, than sink my teeth into his smooth skin. The cuffs rattle against the headboard. _Slap. Kiss. Slap._ That was how this all started. I slap him across the face, harder than I intended too. It knocks the wind out of him. I grab a fist full of his hair, pulling so hard I'm going to yank it out. I let the nails on my other hand sink into his rib cage as I bite down on his exposed throat. He struggles, shrinking away from me. He's making weird noises in his throat, and I realize he's trying to speak. "Pain. Pain," he finally sobs softly. I instantly release him, kissing his face gently. That wasn't kinky, or sexy. It was torture, yet his cock is harder than ever, dripping pre-come. I reach for the blindfold, "Finish, just no more hurting me. I just needed a little bit."

Uncomfortable over how easily I was able to hurt him, I move to straddle him, carefully placing my hands on his toned chest, before sinking down on him. It's disturbing how quickly one falls into this game, and I realize I'm done with it. I want to finish it loving him. "You look so great like this, Christian. I've never imagined having your body like this. It's delicious." I whisper in his ear as I rock against him. He's openly whimpering now, head thrown back as I ride him. "I love you," I add, kissing his ear. Tears blur my vision as tension builds in my stomach. He's tense, holding himself back. _That's torture_ too, I think. "Stop, baby, just let it happen."

He says something that sounds like, 'I love you, too', but then he comes apart in my arms. His body tightens against the restraints, and he comes hard, bringing me with him. I collapse against him, our chests heaving for air as I lay next to him. Seconds later, he's jingling the handcuffs. "Blindfold," he whispers tiredly. Surprised he let me use it at all, I quickly remove it at his request. He blinks at me, brows pulled together. "That was better than I ever remember it being." I grin at him, but deep in my heart I'm disgusted with myself. "Cuffs," he says, not liking being restrained anymore. I undo those too, hands and feet, freeing him. He instantly curls up against me, and I hold him, stroking his hair.

He's asleep within minutes, but I lay wide awake, unable to wrap my mind around it. He likes pain, he likes being hurt. What else would he let me do to him? I shudder, holding him closer at the thought. I never want to do this again, ever. I shut my eyes and drift off into an uneasy, dreamless, sleep.

When I wake up, I feel Christians weight still on my chest. I peer down at him, smiling at how peaceful he looks. My smile is instantly replaced my horror, "Holy fuck!" He jolts, alert immediately.

"What's wrong?"

His face has a shadow of a bruise on his cheek, from his jaw to the corner of his eye. His neck has two dark red hickeys, and the bite mark on his neck is a dark black and blue color. Not to mention the claw marks on his perfect chest. I stare, mouth hanging open, disgusted with myself for not knowing my own strength. Oblivious, he reaches out to touch me, and I grab his hand. His wrist has a dark red ring around it, matching the other one. He looks at it, frowning.

"Ana, that happens, it's okay," he says gently.

I shake my head, shifting out from under him. "You're covered in marks, Christian." I head for the bathroom, knowing he'll follow. I stand in front of the mirror, and he appears next to me.

"Oh," he says quietly, examining himself. "I asked you to, it's alright."

"No, it's not," I'm angry again. "I should have known better. You will get carried away, I should have never done that."

He wraps his arms around my waist from behind, "Ana, baby. I've had worse than this before. They don't hurt, I like it. It'll all heal and I'll be fine."

I sob and he kisses me, I can't believe I hurt my fifty-shades. What if he's fifty-one shades now? "No crying, baby. Please, I'm happy, that felt wonderful." He's desperate.

"You used the safe word," I whisper, so it couldn't have felt that good.

He kisses my shoulder, "I know, for a second I couldn't breathe." His reply makes me sob again. God, I'm a fool. "Baby, stop. All I want you to do is come to bed and hold me."

I sniffle, and he drags me past the Red Room of Pain, and into our bedroom. He curls up on the bed, looking up at me. He almost looks sad, "Ana, for the first time in my life; I just want to be held. Please, hold me?" He whispers. I look down, I can't look at the marks I left on him. "Ana," I hear the tears in his voice, my body goes cold. I look up, and he's curled on his side, knees tucked in, arms around himself. He's sobbing silently into the pillow, and I jump up behind him. I take him in my arms and press my face into his neck, not caring that I'm wetting him with my tears. His arms are squeezing his chest tightly, and I interlace our fingers. "I feel like my chest is breaking," he says, puzzled. I press a kiss to his cheek and lean up slightly to rest mine right against his.

"Why are you crying?" I ask, kissing him again.

"I can't believe I want that," he chokes out, "I enjoy being hurt like that, Ana. I never get it anymore, and sometimes I need it so bad I just want to hurt myself."

I gasp, hugging him tighter, "Never, ever hurt yourself. Ever, please. Why have you never told me?"

He thinks for a moment, "Because I never knew how. I told you everything that happened to me, I just didn't know how to say it. I cut myself a few times, before El-Mrs. Robinson." He admits, all in one breath. I'm overwhelmed again.

"What did Dr. Flynn say about it?"

He chuckles slightly through his tears, "He said it had something to do with me feeling out of control inside. I told you, it's easier to wear pain than to admit it."

I can't stop pressing kisses to him temple, "Too much pain, Christian. If you let it bottle up so much, you'll break one day and really do some damage."

"I have to hurt something though, Ana. Someone else, or myself. It has to be myself." I clench my jaw.

"That's why you had subs, to hold it off. That's why you constantly get angry, and why you like rough sex." He nods, sniffing and inhaling shakily.

"Please don't be afraid of me, I'm not a monster. Well, I don't want to be. I just can't stop thinking about it sometimes."

"I'm not afraid of you, baby. We can work through this and figure it out, but you have to promise me when you feel like hurting yourself or anyone else, you will come to me right away," my voice is shaking, and I want to be closer to him, like under his skin.

"I promise," he whispers, shutting his eyes. He's exhausted again, and I can feel the rest of his energy draining from his body. Shaking like a leaf, he rests his naked back against my naked chest. I hum quietly as his chest starts to rise and fall slower, and he's asleep. I don't know if I'll ever sleep again.


	2. Chapter 2

I guess I do manage to doze off, because it's nearly 10am when I open my eyes again. Christian is still dead weight against me, and it shocks me that he's still asleep. His body is hotter now, too hot. His free fingers are tangled in the bed sheets, his frame twitching uncomfortably. I plant a kiss on his ear, smoothing his hair back in an attempt to sooth him. It fails, and he's muttering in his sleep, body tense; "Don't touch me, please don't." His plea is anguish filled, and I quickly sit up and grab him by the shoulders, rolling him onto his back.

"Christian, baby, it's only a dream," I say, sternly but calmly. His hands flail about, heart pounding.

"No, stop, _stop_. Mommy!" Christian's voice is hoarse and higher than usual. _Oh, fifty._

I grab his face and pry his eyes open, his pupils are the size of pin tips. "It's Ana baby, you're okay!" I'm yelling now, grasping his face and shaking it. Finally his eyes spring open, his hands flying up to push me away. I don't let go, "Christian, you're in our bed, just us. You're fine, it was a dream."

He's confused for a moment, then his eyes clear with understanding, "Oh, Ana." He moans and rolls us over so he's on top of me, his fingers rubbing my sex. I gush, inhaling sharply. He bruise on his cheek is a little darker, as is the bite mark. The cuff marks are more black than red, and the scratches are angry red and scabbed over. I can't stop staring at them.

"Christian, stop," his hand stills, staring down at me. I gently trace the bruise on his face, "I don't want to do this after last night, not right away." His frown deepens, but doesn't argue. He collapses next to me again, and I tangle my hand in his hair. He winces, and I realize it must hurt a bit after I pulled so hard. "I don't want to hurt you, Christian."

"I just want to make love to you," he admits quietly, moving to lay on top of me again. I let him this time, his fingers rubbing against me again. I let him for a few moments, thinking about everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. Too much has happened, I've discovered too much. I don't want to have sex and pretend it never happened. I want to see more, something different. I don't want him to keep anything from me, and I want to see him in every way possible. A thought dawns on me.

"Christian, do you…" my voice trails off, suddenly unsure of myself.

"Do I what?" he asks, kissing my neck.

"Do you ever touch yourself?" I ask bravely, and he stills shyly. For a second I think he isn't going to answer.

"I, um, between subs, and when I was younger." A faint blush tints his cheeks, and I never thought he'd ever be embarrassed about anything sexual. I smile slightly, brushing my fingers against his untainted cheek.

"Will you now?" I ask, tracing the outside of his ear with my finger. His hand falls away from me, and he hangs his head with a sigh.

"Why do you want me to?" he asks.

It's my turn to blush, "I've just never seen it before, and you've had me do it, so I'm assuming it's hot to watch."

He's thoughtful for a minute, before slowly laying back down next to me. Eyes closed, he runs his hand down his chest and across his belly. His fingers brush against his erection before he holds it firmly. He peeks at me from under hooded eyes, and I'm completely captivated by the site of him. His hand moves slowly, and I drink in the site, resting my hand on the top of his head. His other hand slithers down his body to massage his balls, and he groans softly. It's the most erotic, sexy thing I've ever watched, and I can't even blink. He's biting his lip as he moves faster, working himself harder. I understand what he means when he tells me not to bite my lip, it makes me want to bite it too. He's panting already, his hand sliding up and down, twisting slightly when it reaches the tip. His free hand sinks lower, pushing against the skin underneath, and he moans louder. He grips himself so tight, I'm sure it hurts, yet he bows up off the bed in ecstasy. My mouth hangs open as his eyes screw shut and he comes in quick bursts onto his heaving stomach. While he lays still, recovering, I reach out to touch the liquid on his belly, and that makes his cock twitch again. He looks delicious like this too, sweaty, panting, and I love him even more than I did before.

"Can I make love to you now?" he pleads, staring up at me. God, this man has stamina. I want to reward him for doing what I asked, and plus I'm needy and hot after watching that.

"Yes," I whisper, and he's on top of me in a second. Within minutes, the demons are all hiding back in the closet, and we're lost in each other again. He's impossibly gentle, and I know it's because he's afraid he'll hurt me. The conversation we had about it was unsettling, but I hope he doesn't think that I believe he always wants to hurt me now.

"Eyes open," he whispers, but I don't open them. He growls in frustration, breaking off in a moan when I lift my hips to meet his.

"Faster," I groan, but he doesn't listen either.

"No, slow, baby." I want to pout like a child, but slow is good too. I rest my hands on his ribs sliding them around and up his back to his shoulders. The feeling of his strong, lean muscles working under his skin is wonderful, one of the best things about being able to touch him.

"So good, Christian," I gasp when he changes his angle. I want to kiss his shoulder, but the bite mark is covering so much of his skin. I hesitate only for a second before gently kissing it anyway.

"Ow," he sighs, rubbing his nose against mine sweetly. He moves even slower, but the pressure keeps building, and he falls silent. He tenses suddenly, and empties into me. I cry out and finish too, but he doesn't make a sound. He lays on top of me, and I press gentle kisses on his face. A thought occurs to me, and uncertainty bubbles in my stomach. Does he like this? Christian was fearful of intimacy for so long, and here I am pressing kisses to his face. He reminds me of someone that would rather be hidden away in his room than ever see the light of day.

"Do you forgive me for asking you to hurt me?" he mumbles.

"I wasn't ever really mad at you, I was more mad at myself for not seeing that you can't control it so therefor I need to," I answer as honestly as I can, trying not to give my thoughts away too much.

"You didn't like it at all?" He whispers, "I enjoyed it."

I think about it, "I did, the power was nice. It just scared me how it easy it was for me to be so okay with it."

He smiles shyly, "So no more S&M?"

I press another kiss to his face, and he leans back to look at me, "I don't want to hurt you Christian. I'm not really too excited to be hurt either."

He frowns, "Ana, I don't want to hurt you like that. I love it, though. I just don't think I was ready for it with the blindfold." He's so impossibly kinky, and so impossibly broken. "Can we try it again, sometime? I haven't done it in so long." His voice sounds dreamy as he speaks of it. It turns my stomach. I think of the little baby growing in my belly, and I wonder if it will change Christian. Will it help him?

"Yes," I say, without really thinking about it. "I didn't know you liked being submissive."

His face darkens, "I need control, but sometimes I can't hold it together. I need someone to beat me back to my senses."

I feel my face pale, "You don't like choking, what else don't you like?"

He's thoughtful, pulling out of me and rolling onto his side to face me. "I've only been choked once before, it hurt, but it was a weird pain. I had the worst head ache after, but I would try it again." He has no limits, no boundaries? "No knifes, no fire, no burning-" I picture the scars on his chest, "-I like nipple and genital clamps." I try to hide my disgust, and fail.

He ignores my disgust, brushing hair off my face. I can't picture doing any of this to him, I can't picture him screaming in a mix of pain and pleasure. "No shocking, but I don't mind vibrators. Being tied down and blindfolded is a lot for me, I hate being gagged." It's like he's running down a check list in his head.

"How old were you?" I ask.

"How old was I for what?"

"The first time you tried all of this, how old were you?" I ask, honestly curious.

"Mrs. Robinson waited six months before we even got to have sex at all. She beat me and jerked me off, but thankfully never touched me. When she took me to bed, she tied me up, blindfolded me, and gagged me; I was positive she was going to touch me, I begged her not to. She promised she wouldn't, but she did put nipple clamps on me, and beat me; I got to fuck her though. It was the scariest, yet best moment of my young life."

I'm disgusted for the 100th time today, "That was how you lost your virginity?"

He bites his lip, "I suppose so. Never really thought about it."

Well, no wonder he's over the top now. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to do any of that, Christian. I'm sorry."

He smiles slightly, kissing me, "Not now, another day, baby. Even if you can't do it, or can't do all of it. I'll understand, I'll be okay without it." I snuggle up against him, and he seems perfectly content, and I really hope he forgets about it. I know he won't


End file.
